17. Such is the ground and the nature of that joy, whereby an adult Christian rejoiceth evermore. And from all this we may easily infer, first, That this is not a _natural_ joy. It does not arise from any natural cause: not from any sudden flow of spirits. This may give a transient start of joy. But the Christian _rejoiceth always_. It cannot be owing to bodily health or ease; to strength and soundness of constitution. For it is equally strong in sickness and pain; yea perhaps far stronger than before. Many Christians have never experienced any joy, to be compared with that which then filled their soul, when the body was well nigh worn out with pain, or consumed away with pining sickness. Least of all can it be ascribed to outward prosperity, to the favour of men, or plenty of worldly goods. For then chiefly, when their faith has been tried as with fire, by all manner of outward afflictions, have the children of God rejoiced in him, _whom unseen they loved_, even _with joy unspeakable_. And never surely did men rejoice like those, who were used as _the filth and off-scouring of the world_; who wandered to and fro, being in want of all things; in hunger, in cold, in nakedness: who _had trials_, not only _of cruel mockings_, but _moreover of bonds and imprisonments_: Yea, who at last _counted not their lives dear unto themselves, so_ they _might finish their course with joy_. 18. * From the preceding considerations, we may, secondly, infer, That the joy of a Christian does not arise from any _blindness of conscience_, from his not being able to discern good from evil. So far from it, that he was an utter stranger to this joy, till the eyes of his understanding were opened! That he knew it not, until he had spiritual senses, fitted to discern spiritual good and evil. And now the eye of his soul waxeth not dim. He was never so sharp-sighted before. He has so quick a perception of the smallest things, as is quite amazing to the natural man. As a mote is visible in the sun-beam, so to him who is walking in the light, in the beams of the uncreated Sun, every mote of sin is visible. Nor does he close the eyes of his conscience any more. That sleep is departed from him. His soul is always broad awake: no more slumber or folding of the hands to rest! He is always standing on the tower, and hearkning what his Lord will say concerning him: and always rejoicing in this very thing, in _seeing him that is invisible_.